


What do you want? ( Leon Kennedy / Reader )

by starlightwatch



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, Resident Evil / reader, Smut, Top Leon S. Kennedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwatch/pseuds/starlightwatch
Summary: after getting a little handsy during a meeting at the agency, leon kennedy pays you a visit to finish what he started.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Reader, Leon S. Kennedy/You
Kudos: 49





	What do you want? ( Leon Kennedy / Reader )

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry in advance, i don’t write smut a lot???

It’s unfair. The little game Leon Kennedy is actively trying to play with you in the middle of a meeting with the board of the agency. He’s perfected the art of extending his arm over to your chair, fingers crawling over the exposed skin where your skirt ends over your lower thigh. No one ever sees him. How do they not? You were practically shuddering – likely from the excitement and nervousness of being caught – in your seat by the time his hand carefully dipped underneath the fabric. 

It’s a dangerous game to play. But Leon Kennedy has never been one to tremble in the face of danger. In fact, some would say he’s quite the survivalist. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, leaning closer to not interrupt the meeting, breath fanning over your skin in a way that makes you shiver. “You’re supposed to be taking notes, what’s got you distracted?” 

You swallow the rising lump in your throat, ignore the choked whimper in your throat when his thumb presses into the fabric of your underwear and whisper, “you’re going to get us both fired if you don’t—“ 

The words tangle in your throat when he whispers something about bending you over the desk when everyone leaves, a devilish grin on his lips when he pulls away from you, removing his hand in the process. For a moment you almost long for him to return to his antics. Instead you stare at the clock on the wall, watching the thing tick and tock, wishing it would hurry along. This meeting couldn’t end sooner. 

When you’d finally managed to start jotting down notes again per request from one of the big bosses, the blond returns his hand to your thigh. One wrong move, the slightest of sounds could give way to what was happening underneath the table. God forbid someone walked around the table. 

It persists like this for another thirty minutes. An antagonizing half hour until finally they excuse themselves and Hunnigan so sweetly asks you to stay back and make sure nothing was left behind. The spare moment of being by yourself gives you time to recuperate from Leon’s antics, he’d gone with the agents so you assume you’re safe for the time being. 

Not that you would mind. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d found yourself flush against Leon in the worst possible place to have sex. A smile curves over your lips at the memory of a little party during a mission where a certain agent could not get over the black dress you wore that night long enough to focus on his task. And when he got the intel he needed? Your dress became his next priority. 

The door cracks open to the meeting room just as you’re stacking a pile of papers on a filing cabinet in the corner of the room – an intern would collect them later on. You pay it no mind, at first, until the intruder’s arms wrap around your waist and tug gently until you face him. 

Leon stares at you with a mischievous smile, the blue of his eyes almost dancing a little dance. “What are you doing back?” You ask, a smile decorating your lips. You knew exactly why he’d come back. 

“Maybe I just wanted to see my favorite assistant again,” his voice lingers with that of rich honey and something that only Leon Kennedy possessed. His voice could arguably seduce you alone, adding his coy little expressions into the mix spelled trouble for you. 

You roll your eyes at his comment, looking over at the door to the room with momentary hesitation. The blond man keeping you locked in his hold dips his head, ghosting his warm lips over the soft skin of your neck. His teeth capture a patch of your skin, an action that earns a hitched breath from you, tongue soothing over the skin where he’d surely leave his mark. His personal paintings on your skin, the prettiest art in his opinion. 

“Leon, the door,” you warn him, fingers tangling in between soft locks of hair as his lips trail a scorching trail over your collarbone, his free hand navigating over the curve of your hip up to your chest where he can unbutton your shirt. 

He brushes your comment off, pressing a reassuring peck to your lips before returning to his previous position. With more of your skin gradually being exposed to him he follows it, leaving soft red blossoms over your skin with every nip from his teeth. “No one’s coming back in here, sweetheart.” 

You trust him. You trust that Leon Kennedy knows the game he’s playing and allow him to press you back into the filing cabinet. His hip brushes against yours, allowing you to take notice of how excited Leon must have been. 

“Leon,” you breathlessly whisper, trembling at the feeling of his hand trailing underneath your skirt once more. It’s a sound that he relishes in hearing from you, he soaks it up selfishly and craves to hear it once more. 

He pauses his assault on your chest to hover his lips over your own, a delicate little brush against them as he speaks. “We can always stop.” 

He pauses for a sliver of a second, waiting for your response. You shake your head, needy for his touch to resume. “Keep going, Leon.” 

Despite how cold Leon could be, it always warms your heart that he would never put you in a situation you didn’t want. When you’d started this little arrangement he had told you the same thing over and over. Assured you that you could always say no and everything would be fine. 

When he resumes his task of brushing his fingers over the dampening fabric you sigh, leaning back against the filing cabinet when his hand dips between the fabric covering your heat. A light whimper fills his ears like the sweetest melody on a Summer day when he finds that little spot he always teased you with. 

He presses, does whatever he knows will get you going for his touch. Begging for him to speed up, nothing but his name on your tongue – one of the more innocent things of his you’d had there. A wanton moan leaves your lips when his finger curls into you, pushing in slowly at first. After a moment, he adds another finger and finds himself sealing his lips over yours to prevent someone from hearing you. 

He’d much prefer to hear every little sound that left your lips, but he supposed for now he could deal with tasting them on his tongue instead. No one else needed to know what was happening in the room. 

When a whine escapes you at a rougher curl of his finger he peppers his lips over your neck, voice heavy with growing need. “You like that?” He repeats the action, satisfaction when you repeat the sound. “Yeah, you like that.” 

He steadies you with the hand not currently pleasuring you, keeping you firmly against the filing cabinet. “Leon, Leon,” you whisper quietly, forcing your eyes to open despite the sensation provided by his fingers, “please.” 

Leon nearly caves at the pure need in your voice, groaning at the way you roll your hips into his hand when he slows his pace. “Please? You can do better than that, Y/N,” he coos, eager to hear you say his name again and have you tell him what you wanted from him. 

He adds a third finger, shushing your moan with his lips before it can echo off the walls. You trail your lips down his jawline, appreciating the structure as if it were handcrafted by the gods above. Something about Leon intoxicated you, ruined your thought process, made it impossible to have a thought that wasn’t about him. The way he made you feel. The feel of his lips against your skin, the tug of his teeth on your neck, his fingers, even the smell of his cologne invading your senses. 

“What do you want, baby?” He repeats his question, fingers trailing over the goosebumps on your hip to give it a gentle squeeze. 

You cup your hand on the side of his neck, barely managing to focus on your thoughts instead of his fingers curling against that little spot between your thighs that could ruin you. “I want you, all of you, right here –” your lips brush over his, tongue gliding over his bottom lip as gentle as a feather – “right now.” 

God, Leon could have stripped you down against that filing cabinet right then. He swore you were heaven sent. 

He retracts his fingers, pausing to take a taste of the honeyed liquid on his fingers, backing you over to the desk where you’d taken notes only an hour prior. He helps you position yourself to sit on top of it, feverishly connecting his lips to your own. Your hand fumbles with the button on his jeans while he continues to paint his signature over your now exposed chest. 

“Right now you said?” He hoarsely questions, a guttural sound leaving him when you roll your hips against his. Provocative fingers push you down against the cool table and Leon leans close to you, intent on making sure your request is honored. 

“I can work with that.”


End file.
